


Love and Hate

by lordavon



Series: I'd Rather Hurt Than Live Without You [5]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Begging, Blood Kink, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Knife Play, M/M, Masochism, Peter Parker is a Mess, Possessive Peter Parker, Possessive Wade Wilson, Sadism, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Wade Wilson is a mess, but it's not there yet, no beta we die like men, slowly developing a healthier relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordavon/pseuds/lordavon
Summary: Wade wishes Peter would say three words. Or let him say three words. But Peter has a meltdown any time Wade tries.





	Love and Hate

**Author's Note:**

> This relationship is Safe and Consensual. Sane is debatable based on Peter and Wade's various mental states. If that makes it non-consensual for you, please do not read it.
> 
> Please pay attention to the tags for knife and blood kink, thank you!

Peter groaned as Wade carefully slid a dagger under his skin. “Dammit that hurts,” he whimpered, voice strained. Wade just chuckled. 

“That’s the point, and you know it,” he grinned, leaning down to lick Peter’s cheek. “Now be a good pet and scream already.”

Another whine escaped him and he shook his head. “Hell, no – nnngh!” He felt the blade bite into his shoulder again and he hissed back another cry of pain. 

Wade laughed. “I mean it, either scream or tell me what I want to hear, Pet. Or I will just continue.” 

He was panting from the pain and hard as a rock from it, but Wade seemed to have no interest in giving Peter any relief. Shook his head again, and then thrashed on the coffee table when Wade sliced into his skin again. The effort of not screaming left him in tears, which seemed to please Wade no end. 

“I love it when you cry, baby boy.”

“Please,” he whispered. His shoulder burned like fire and Wade simply cut again. 

“You’ll heal. Eventually.” He stroked Peter’s cheek. “Don’t you want to cum, Pet?” Stuck his fingers in Peter’s mouth, laughing when the younger, smaller man bit him hard. “Fuck, that feels good, but if you’re still capable of biting…” He trailed off and sliced once more, pulling on the skin. 

Peter screamed before he could help himself. Wade hummed, listening. “Not sure I believe it. You can do better.” Drew the edge of the blade along Peter’s inner thigh and smiled as his eyes went wide.

“Fuck, Wade, please, I screamed, please don’t, I screamed, I don’t know what else you want me to say, I’m begging you, please don’t.” 

For a brief, wild moment he thought of telling Peter to say, ‘I love you.’ To say the actual words. He hesitated too long; Peter blinked up at him, breathing hard, concern forming in his eyes. Wade pressed the flat of the blade against his thigh, making Peter mewl in protest.

“Scream properly or let Nathan screw you. I saw you blush; you’d enjoy him,” he said instead.

Peter relaxed back into the game, shaking his head. “I’m not fucking him. Only you.”

Wade tilted his head back and forth and then shrugged. “But I own you. You said so. I do own you, right Pet?” The blade bit in, just a bit, and Peter whined in pain.

“That doesn’t mean you get to loan me out to your friends!”

Wade sliced deeper. “Who’s the one in the collar?”

Peter choked on another scream. “Yes, dammit, yes, you own me, fuck, please I don’t want more!”

“Aww, if that were true, you’d safeword. Is that what you want to do?” He sounded serious, waiting, all motion paused while he let Peter regroup enough to answer. Peter shook his head, and Wade smiled tenderly at him. “You are such a good boy, such an amazing little Pet,” he said, cutting into Peter’s thigh, drawing a line of blood down his skin. Repeated the process on his other leg. Licked the knife while Peter shrieked, the cry of pain turning into wordless sobs.

Wade sighed in pleasure, finally relenting; he put the knife to the side and undid Peter’s restraints, scooping him up and cuddling him close as he kissed him over and over. “Good Pet,” he murmured, holding Peter while he cried, burrowing against Wade’s chest for comfort. “Shhhhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Cleaning the wounds sent Peter into another round of hysterics, but both men knew proper medical care sped up Peter’s healing factor and he submitted to having the wounds cleaned and bandaged. By the time Wade had cleared away the knives and put Peter into bed his pet was simply languid. Wade laughed at the decadent picture Peter made against the covers. “Hey now. No sleeping. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Peter looked up as Wade crawled on top of him, pinning his arms over his head with one hand. He moaned, sounding utterly submissive and completely fuckable. Wade kissed him, tongue thrust into his mouth, and Peter broke his hold on his wrists in order to pull Wade closer, holding him in the embrace, thrusting up against Wade’s cock.

“Want you.”

Wade grinned. “You want me to what? C’mon Pet, use a full sentence.”

Peter growled and bit his neck. Wade hissed in a breath, enjoying the feral response. “Okay, you don’t have to use words, I’ll just do what I want then,” he said, pinning Peter’s hands back down again. Peter snapped at him again, trying to bite. “None of that, or I’ll think you aren’t a tame Pet and have to get the knives again.”

He subsided back into the bedding, with a whine. “I’ll behave, I don’t want to be cut more tonight.”

Wade dragged his tongue down Peter’s chest. When he released Peter’s hands, the younger man didn’t move. “Good Pet. Now,” he wrapped a hand around Peter’s cock, stroking him until he was moaning. “I’m just going to rut into you until you can’t think anymore, Pet.” And rammed into him without any further preparation at all.

**

Deadpool rarely died on patrol anymore. Word had gone around that killing Deadpool meant Spiderman would simply break your bones until the point that Deadpool came back. Enough criminals ended up crippled from it that the common street bad guy just stopped shooting at the mercenary if Spiderman was present. 

The only time Deadpool died now was in things like explosions, or car crashes, or when he was on a solo job that took him outside of New York City. Or the big names, the kinds of criminals that came with the tag Supervillain attached. They could kill Deadpool, usually because they could take what Spiderman could throw at them. Usually. Even they were cautious when Spiderman was around.

Peter sometimes suspected Wade took jobs out of town so he could die where Peter wouldn’t know; but he couldn’t prove it and Wade swore it wasn’t true. They fought over it sometimes, one of the few misgivings Peter had in the relationship; but in the end he would rather accept Wade’s statements of innocence than believe he was trying to undo their agreement. Especially since even though he tried to kill himself less, he still did try, and there were still days Peter had to sit there with Wade holding a gun on Peter’s head.

It had been over a year since Wade had last shot himself.

**

Peter curled into Wade’s side on the couch and clutched his mug of cocoa. He rested his head on Wade’s chest. “You know, I wish it just all didn’t…hurt so much.”

“What?” Wade looked down at Peter’s brown hair and drew him in closer. “What didn’t hurt so much?”

“Everything. Life.” He sighed. “I keep thinking I’m getting better, that I’m learning to deal, I’m moving beyond things, and then I’ll see something on TV, or I’ll overhear someone talking and everything comes rushing back and I can’t deal at all.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “So many things I’m responsible for.”

Wade pulled the cocoa from Peter’s hands and put it on the side table, turning so he could wrap Peter in a hug. “Peter…”

“Does it ever get any better?” Peter looked up and Wade frowned, seeing tears forming in Peter’s eyes. 

“Fuck, I’m the worst person to ask,” he said. “I have days I can’t even get out of bed, remember?” He brushed his fingers under Peter’s eyes to wipe away the tears. “I just know you make things better for me.” Peter buried his head against Wade’s shoulder, and Wade just held him tightly while he cried. 

Peter whispered, “You make things better for me too. I don’t know - I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Wade felt his heart lighten, warm from the unexpected endearment. “Well, I’m not leaving you ever, so you don’t have to find out,” and then good-naturedly sighed and hugged him when Peter broke into sobs again. 

**

“This is fucking stupid! I have the funds, there’s no reason you shouldn’t do it!”

“Yes, I’ve agreed already! I just don’t want you to pay for it!”

Wade shot another robot several times through the head. “I don’t fucking see why not!”

Spider-man webbed a trio of robots up for Deadpool to slice through with a katana. “We have been fighting about this since last night! Can you please DROP IT and shoot the damn robots!”

“Oh Webs, I can fight robots and argue with you at the same time, I’m just that talented.”

Peter growled in frustration as he landed on a robot, ripped off it’s head, and pulled out the internal circuitry for good measure. “I said no! Why are we still arguing about this?”

“Yes, that’s what the rest of us are wondering.” Iron Man swooped in, blasting through several of the robots at once. Down the street and around the corner several of the Avengers were engaged in battle with the robots. “I never thought I’d miss the days of endless pop culture references and bad puns.”

“I can still do that and fight robots AND argue with him! Watch!” Deadpool started singing. “I study nuclear science, I love my classes, I got a crazy teacher, he wears dark glasses –” 

A block over, Clint started singing along.

“SHUT UP!” Peter slammed a robot into the ground, grabbed the next one, and threw it at Wade. “We are done discussing this!”

“Things are going great, and they’re only getting better!” Wade sliced clean through the robot and bounced off to slash through the next two he saw. “I’m doing all right, getting GOOD GRADES!”

Peter looked around but they were out of robots in the near vicinity to throw at Deadpool. “I’m not letting you pay for it! Singing isn’t going to make me change my mind!”

“Great! That’s decided.” Iron Man hovered and leveled a hand cannon at Deadpool. “So, I can shoot him, then, right?”

“NO!” Peter leapt in front of Deadpool, Spider-sense going nuts as he got in front of the cannon. “Tony,” he growled in warning.

“SMASH!” Hulk jumped from behind them where he’d run out of targets and bashed both Peter and Wade into the pavement. “Hulk hate singing.”

Around the corner, Clint cut off mid-verse.

Peter woke with his head in Wade’s lap, no Avengers around, and distant sirens of emergency personnel arriving to handle cleanup. “This is a reverse of the norm,” he coughed, every injury he’d sustained making itself known at the same time. “Oh hell, did he actually shoot us?” he asked, as Wade breathed out in relief to hear Peter speaking.

“No, I think I pissed off the Hulk. Is that even possible? I mean, isn’t he already angry to even be big and green in the first place? Is it possible to be angrier than being what he already is?”

“I promise you, Deadpool, you are capable of making people angrier than they ever thought possible.”

“Yes!” Wade did a little fist pump. “I am the king of angry-making!”

“Wade...shut up…”

“Make me.” Wade brushed gloved fingers over Peter’s masked cheek.

Peter groaned. “Once I think I can move, I will be happy to slam you into a wall repeatedly until you shut up. Or through a wall. Whatever works.” He looked around. “Oh, we’re on a rooftop. No walls. Where are the Avengers?” 

“They left. Guess you get lumped in with me now.”

“Good thing I prefer you over them, then,” he groaned. “How bad am I?”

“You aren’t broken. Mostly just sprained and strained and bruised, I think. Probably concussed. So, I got us off the street. You should be limping in another five, ten minutes? Now, before we were interrupted, you’re going to get your doctorate, right?”

“Do not start this while I can’t fucking move!”

Wade grinned. “This is the best time; you can’t throw anything at me or break me.”

Spider-man groaned. “I do not even like you right now.”

Wade pulled up both their masks to kiss him. “Nyah, you know you hate me.”

Peter coughed again. “Okay, yes, I hate you, but that doesn’t change not liking you right now.”

“Good. Now. Let me fucking pay for your grad school.”

“Why the hell did I fall in….in…with you?” he stuttered.

Deadpool stilled. “You could just say it, you know.”

The rooftop was quiet except for the sound of Peter trying to breathe. Wade watched Peter’s mouth, the eye lenses of his mask, and all he could think was his boyfriend was terrified of the thought. It really made no sense. After another minute of waiting Wade shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” Leaned over to kiss Peter softly. “Do you think you can move yet?”

Peter took a quick assessment of his physical condition. “Ye-es, but it’ll hurt.” 

“You got me hit by the Hulk, I think you deserve some hurting. You promised me only you hurts me. Right?”

Peter glared at Deadpool. “You just said that you got us hit by the Hulk!”

Deadpool pulled his mask back down. “Nyah, that can’t be right.”

“Fine, I got us smashed by the Hulk. Is that better? Will you shut up now?”

“Much better. Now, since you’re feeling agreeable, let me tell you, again, all the reasons I should pay for your grad school – hey!”

Peter rolled over and climbed slowly to his feet. “Will you please just give the fuck up?”

“Nope! Kinda my brand! You know this!” Deadpool got up and threw and arm around Peter’s waist before he fell over. Peter whimpered with pain. “Whoa there. You aren’t so steady yet.”

“You know,” Peter said, leaning heavily on his boyfriend, “I can beat the Hulk if he doesn’t fucking sneak up on me.”

“Mmhmm. Yes dear.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes, please, dear.” 

Peter laughed. 

**

He was fascinated with Peter’s hair. 

It was more that when he’d run his fingers through Peter’s hair, he was fascinated with the noises the younger man would make. The action never ceased to elicit lovely moans of pleasure. Didn’t matter where they were, what they were doing; Wade’s hands in Peter’s hair made the man nearly purr with delight, squirming up against Wade with the enjoyment of it. If they were home, he’d lull Peter into limpness while they curled up on the couch or in bed; in public he enjoyed disrupting the other man’s concentration, topic of discourse or thoughts. 

But the best part was wrapping his fingers around the strands, pulling tight, and then shaking Peter. It almost always put Peter immediately into an agreeable, submissive mood. It was the most amusing, delightful thing and although Peter never seemed to realize it, he was fortunate Wade liked him dominant, because otherwise it would be far too fun to play with Peter’s hair endlessly. 

Peter rarely relaxed enough, in Wade’s opinion. And Wade was happy to do anything to make Peter feel better, even though he preferred him in charge.

**

Whenever they weren’t in costume Peter always found ways to be in physical contact with Wade. Watching TV, Peter would always curl up on Wade, welded into his side, head resting on his chest. They never slept apart except when Wade was out of town on a job or Peter was healing from injuries. Even injured, Peter would reach for Wade’s hand. 

If Wade was cooking in the kitchen Peter would settle near enough to steal touches as Wade walked past. If reading science journals on the couch he’d get his legs into Wade’s lap or put his feet under Wade’s thighs. 

At first Wade thought it was because Peter was as touch starved as he was. Peter had simply smiled at him when Wade asked.

“I do?”

“All the time.”

A shrug. “Maybe,” he said, nuzzling Wade’s chest, “I just like touching you.”

Wade wrapped an arm around him. “While I believe it, Pet, I don’t believe it’s all of it.”

His voice was smaller. “You need it. I know how little contact you get. Used to get. And…” He trailed off.

“And?” Wade prompted, kissing the top of his head. Peter nestled closer.

“Sometimes I have trouble believing you’re really still here.”

Wade burst out laughing. “Why the fuck would I leave you? You’re like – like – perfect.”

Peter blushed, and lightly bit Wade’s shoulder. “Hush, you. You know you hate me.”

Wade tilted Peter’s head up to kiss him. “Peter…you know I lo—”

“Don’t!” Wade cut off as Peter went still, eyes wide with suppressed panic. Wade had watched Peter succumb to panic attacks a little too often to not recognize the signs. “Don’t,” he repeated, pulling back, and Wade let go. “Don’t say it,” he said, pushing into the opposite side of the couch.

“Peter –” 

“JUST DON’T!” He threw a couch pillow at Wade, jumping off the sofa and heading for the bedroom. Shaking, Wade got up and followed him, watching Peter from the doorway as the younger man curled up in a ball, pillows and blankets clutched to his chest. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“I won’t. But Peter,” he said, hating the whine that got into voice, “Why?”

Peter screamed in frustration and flopped onto his back to look up at Wade, eyes red, hair a mess. “You never fucking give up, do you.” He reached up, and pulled Wade’s head down to kiss him, rough and angry, and under that, Wade felt, still simply scared. “Just fucking hate me, Wade, okay?” He kissed him again, gentler, pleading. “Just hate me, and live.”

Wade shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand, Pet.”

“Never fucking gives up,” Peter repeated under his breath. He cupped Wade’s face in his hands, the touch gentle despite his obvious distress. “I don’t need you to understand. Just trust me. Okay? Just trust me. I promise, Wade, I won’t let you fall again.”

Wade was utterly lost and confused. “I trust you.”

Peter pulled him in close and kissed him gently. “That’s all I’m asking.” He rubbed his hands over Wade’s back, gently soothing, teasing him until Wade put aside his doubts, sinking into Peter’s embrace as they softly came together, drawing out shared pleasure. It left them spent, gasping in between kisses, holding each other in a tangle of limbs and clothes and blankets. 

Wade succumbed to sleep first, Peter coiled around him, protecting him from his nightmares; and so he didn’t hear Peter cry himself to sleep, murmuring, “Just live.”


End file.
